i'm leaving this place. this physical space that some would urge me to call a home. it hasn't really even sunk in that i'm leaving tomorrow. yesterday was my last day at the work i've known for the past year. the day went quickly and felt like most other days except for the heartfelt hugs at the end, and the most genuine well-wishes and honest voiced concern. i've been seeing and calling friends for the last time for what may be a while. some of them don't even know that i'm going. not everybody understands this.
i'm leaving most of my things. my collected books. my stereo. my records and shoes and plenty of clothing. all those things i know i don't really need to be happy. perhaps my mother will burn them when i'm gone.
none of these things really upset me.
i'm taking a favourite novel, some music, a sketch book and enough clothing to keep me warm (and looking adorable). to save room i'll be tying the laces together and throwing the Docs over my shoulder. i've got a list of numbers of friends i call family that i've not seen in years and this makes me sick with excitement.
change is good and to struggle is to experience and people keep saying that i should be afraid, but i've never felt more fearless. i will miss my younger brother, and i feel sad that he has to watch the demise of a part of his family, and because she will tell him nothing, he will not understand. and i feel angry because, although i absolutely adore my father, he wont stand up to her, for me, even though i know he's the only one who understands.
i hope the sun is shining tomorrow. and i can hold my lover's hand and stand in the sun, over the waves, watching the water, letting the wind smack kisses over my pale cheeks. and if it rains, well, we'll be standing there still.
when i was young they were not my own, but i soon built my family out of the stars that fell down and the blades of grass that tickled the bottoms of my feet as i playing under the dark sky one night. the blood in my veins had been drained by a violet machine leaving me a stranger in my own home. slowly i replaced it, with rich warm milk until one day it wrapped around my tongue and i could taste the world as it really was.
i'm leaving most of my things. my collected books. my stereo. my records and shoes and plenty of clothing. all those things i know i don't really need to be happy. perhaps my mother will burn them when i'm gone.
none of these things really upset me.
i'm taking a favourite novel, some music, a sketch book and enough clothing to keep me warm (and looking adorable). to save room i'll be tying the laces together and throwing the Docs over my shoulder. i've got a list of numbers of friends i call family that i've not seen in years and this makes me sick with excitement.
change is good and to struggle is to experience and people keep saying that i should be afraid, but i've never felt more fearless. i will miss my younger brother, and i feel sad that he has to watch the demise of a part of his family, and because she will tell him nothing, he will not understand. and i feel angry because, although i absolutely adore my father, he wont stand up to her, for me, even though i know he's the only one who understands.
i hope the sun is shining tomorrow. and i can hold my lover's hand and stand in the sun, over the waves, watching the water, letting the wind smack kisses over my pale cheeks. and if it rains, well, we'll be standing there still.
when i was young they were not my own, but i soon built my family out of the stars that fell down and the blades of grass that tickled the bottoms of my feet as i playing under the dark sky one night. the blood in my veins had been drained by a violet machine leaving me a stranger in my own home. slowly i replaced it, with rich warm milk until one day it wrapped around my tongue and i could taste the world as it really was.
VIEW 14 of 14 COMMENTS
Hold my hand darlin', not for help, but because I know you'll be fine, and everything will work out alright. I just want to be there when it happens.
We all know you have a beautiful smile.